And to All a Good Night
by Erandir
Summary: The Nordics' annual post-Christmas party almost always turns into a drunken bender. This year is no different.


Title: And to All a Good Night

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Sweden/Finland, heavily implied Denmark/Norway

Summary: The Nordics annual post-Christmas party almost always ends up as a drunken bender.

This is the result of me listening to entirely too much Reckless Love, which apparently makes me write bad, out of season Christmas porn.

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><p>Finland did not drink very often because of the decidedly bad effect it usually had on him. However, there was one time when he lifted his self-imposed ban on alcohol: the Nordics' annual post-Christmas party. Post-Christmas because Finland was too busy before the holiday fulfilling his duties as Santa to attend any parties. So every year on the twenty-sixth of December the Nordic countries celebrated not only the holiday, but Finland being done with work.<p>

Finland usually took the opportunity to get completely smashed.

And so did everyone else.

They ran out of eggnog about an hour into the party, but they really only drank it for the novelty anyway, so everyone was happy when the empty cartons were discarded and replaced by glass bottles. Toasts started with 'god jul's and 'another good year's, worked their way through wind farms and volcanoes, and ended with Denmark proposing a toast "to Norge's ass! May it continue to be gorgeous and gropeable for many years to come!" – or something equally ridiculous – which Norway was too drunk to protest. At that point they usually gave up on toasts entirely because it took too much brain power to think of new ones.

They gathered in someone's living room, Denmark's this year, and sprawled across sofas and chairs, or the floor. Finland settled himself on Sweden's lap in an armchair, a bottle of vodka leaning against his hip to refill their glasses without having to get up. By the time the bottle was empty the Finn's face was flushed red. He pawed lightly at Sweden's shirt, playing with the buttons absent mindedly.

Across the room Denmark was reminiscing about their Viking days, reenacting old battles with the empty bottles and glasses on the coffee table. "And this beer bottle is me, being awesome," he explained to Iceland, who had actually passed out moments earlier, but Denmark had not noticed yet. "And this eggnog… thing is the boat. And this… This…"

"Candlestick," Norway supplied, proving that at least he was paying attention to Denmark's rant.

"This candlestick is England," Denmark continued without missing a beat.

Sweden stopped paying attention to the story when he quite suddenly felt Finland's hand inside his shirt. A look down confirmed that the smaller nation had undone two of his shirt buttons, just enough space to slip his hand in to grope Sweden's chest.

Drunk as he was, Finland probably wouldn't have cared if they had sex right there on the sofa with Denmark watching. But Sweden had a little more modesty, so he pushed the smaller country off his lap and rose unsteadily to his feet. From the other side of the coffee table two pairs of eyes watched the pair get up and make their way out of the living room, staggering a bit as they walked.

Finland couldn't walk straight. Neither could Sweden. With an arm around Finland to keep him upright and the other on the wall to keep them walking straight, Sweden pulled his smaller companion down the hall and into the first room they came to. It was a bedroom. Neither bothered to try and figure out who's as the door was kicked closed.

And then Finland couldn't stand up anymore.

It was only because Sweden's sense of balance was also completely destroyed that Finland's insignificant weight was enough to bring him down. Thankfully they landed on the bed. And immediately Finland's hands were pulling at Sweden's hair, bringing their lips together hard as he pressed his hips up against the other's. Sweden scrabbled to get them higher up on the bed, his hands on the Finn's waist and hips and thighs. He groaned softly.

Finland's hands began to roam over his lover's body, pulling at clothes until he could get at the bare flesh beneath, fumbling with Sweden's belt buckle. Frustrated with his lack of coordination he pulled back from the kiss and pushed at Sweden's shoulders, somehow managing to roll them over until he sat straddling the taller man. With a triumphant smirk he bent down and pressed his lips to the Swede's chest, kissing and licking a leisurely path down toward his stomach that drew soft, low moans from the man's lips.

When he reached Sweden's pants he stopped, leaving the larger man panting as he first unbuckled his belt, then popped open the button on his pants and slowly drew down the zipper. There was already an obvious bulge in the man's pants, and Finland was more than happy to alleviate it as he pulled down Sweden's pants and underwear in one movement.

Smiling to himself, Finland first wrapped his hand around Sweden's cock, then slowly ran his tongue up the underside of the length. Sweden moaned low in his throat, his hands fisting in Finland's soft hair as the smaller man continued to work magic with his tongue, licking and sucking. When he could take it no longer he pulled Finland up and back, shoving him onto his back and practically pounced on him.

They very nearly fell off the bed.

The door flew open with a clatter and a bang as two other figures stumbled their way into the dark room, but then stopped halfway in. Norway leaned on the doorframe as though it was the only thing keeping him upright, and with the way Denmark was hanging onto him it might have been. He had spotted the pair on the bed, but it took Denmark a moment longer to figure out why Norway was no longer responding to his attempts to get into his pants. When the Dane finally did spot Finland and Sweden a grin crossed his face. "Can we join you?" he leered. Sweden threw the cordless phone from the bedside table at him but missed by a mile as Norway hauled his companion out of the doorway again and went in search of an unoccupied bedroom.

No one bothered to close the door again, but the only other person in the house was Iceland, and he had passed out on the living room floor half an hour ago.

As soon as they were gone Finland burst out laughing. He collapsed into a fit of giggles that only confused Sweden. Face flushed and hair a complete mess Finland smirked up at his lover, "Should've let 'em stay," he slurred slightly as he spoke, "Might've been fun."

Sweden's only answer was to crush his lips against Finland's again to shut him up. He kicked off his pants and began stripping off Finland's clothes, which the smaller man was eager to help him with. The Finn's clothes were off it what was probably record-breaking time and Sweden pulled their hips together, grinding down against him hard enough to make Finland cry out in pleasure. Then Sweden's hands were between Finland's legs, pushing his thighs apart and pressing a finger against that tight ring of muscle.

"Perkele," Finland bit out, wincing slightly at the unaided intrusion. And even drunk Sweden realized this wasn't going to work. Reluctantly tearing himself away from the willing body below him, the Swede sat up and reached over to the beside table. He was hoping that, this being Denmark's house, all the bedrooms would be well stocked. He was not disappointed. And even though the lube was strawberry flavored, it would serve its purpose. Popping the top open Sweden squeezed a liberal amount onto his fingers and returned to the task at hand. This time when he pressed his fingers in Finland practically purred and pressed back against him.

Sweden prepared his smaller lover quickly; lingering only long enough to make sure the Finn was sufficiently wet before he withdrew his fingers. Grabbing Finland's hips, he hauled the smaller man up onto his lap and hiked one of the Finn's legs up over his shoulder as he pressed into him in one smooth motion.

Finland moaned loudly and grabbed the sheets below them as he pressed back against Sweden. They quickly fell into a rhythm, Finland's moans and cries filling the air along with the slap of flesh against flesh. Leaning down to press their lips together Sweden practically folded Finland in half beneath him. The kiss was sloppy and wet, broken frequently by pants and moans until they gave up even trying. Finland practically screamed when he came, Sweden bit down hard on the Finn's shoulder, moaning against his flesh.

They collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, sticky with sweat and cum, smelling like sex and strawberry lube. When he regained his breath Sweden pulled out and flopped onto the mattress beside Finland. He grabbed the blankets, struggling to pull them over their rapidly cooling bodies with very little help from an already half-asleep Finland. Somehow they managed to maneuver themselves into a comfortable position, and then Finland was out like a light. Sweden followed him a few moments later.

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><p>Finland woke up with a pounding headache and attempted to bury himself deeper into the blankets and pillows, hiding away from the dim morning half-light that seeped in through the windows. His head hurt; his everything hurt, actually. And not for the first time he promised himself to never get drunk again.<p>

But his attempt to hide away from the rest of the world was foiled as he felt whatever he was laying on shift beneath him. Then he realized he was laying on Sweden.

"You awake?" he mumbled against the man's chest. Sweden grunted in response. "My head hurts," Finland informed him, and Sweden grunted back to confirm he felt the same. "What time is it?"

He felt Sweden shift again, and there was a long moment of silence during which Sweden was probably squinting at the clock before he realized he wasn't wearing his glasses, then searched for them blindly. "Nine," he answered eventually.

That was too early. Why the hell were they even awake? Then Finland's stomach made a gurgle of complaint, reminding him that they had not had much dinner the night before. With a groan the Finn pushed himself up into a sitting position and squinted at the room around them. He noticed the wide open door with a frown, as well as the clothes scattered around the floor. "Where're my pants?" he asked, attempting to identify the articles on the floor.

Sweden did not have an answer for him, so Finland crawled over him and reached for the first thing he found. It was Sweden's shirt, but he put it on anyway before climbing out of bed and locating his underwear. Then he headed for the kitchen.

Iceland had moved, or been moved, onto the sofa at some point, where he was still asleep and snoring softly. In the kitchen Finland located Norway, who was standing a fierce guard over the coffee maker. He whined softly and made grabbing motions toward the pot of dark liquid. Reluctantly, Norway stepped aside and allowed the Finn to pour himself a cup.

Moments later both nations were seated at the kitchen table happily sipping coffee strong enough to fight off even the worst hangovers. It was then that Sweden appeared in the kitchen, wearing only his pants, and shuffled over the table. He pressed a kiss to the top of Finland's head and mumbled a good morning into his hair before going to get himself a mug of coffee.

"I can't handle you two being cute this early in the morning," Norway muttered, and stood up. "I'm going to shower. Feed Island if he wakes up."

Right; breakfast. That was why Finland had gotten out of bed. But now he did not have the energy to cook anything. However, one pitiful look towards Sweden and the tall nation was heading to the refrigerator to find something to eat.


End file.
